Ghosts of The Past
by TwinsanitySN
Summary: With sixteen years of life forgotten and the ability to kill. A teenage assassin finds herself launched into adventure by an act of revenge and a surprising ally. Mourning over the loss of her guardian, she willingly joins a mission to save the human race. Yet as dark memories of the past bring back ancient scars, only the friendship and love of an alien teenager can stop the pain.
1. Hunted

**We do not own Mass Effect**

Harrison stares at the black armored figure before him as his loyal bodyguard is slayed, the stranger's pistol splaying the Batarian's blood over the floor like the painting of a four year old. He unsuccessfully tries to slow his breathing as he feels the fear deepen in his body. Smoothly, the assassin turns to him and takes one menacing step towards him. His heart skips a whole beat as it aimed the primed pistol right at him.

One shot and Harrison's head is shot open, the force of the bullet painting the wall behind him with sinisterly extravagant beauty. The figure replaces its pistol to its hip, taking a second to stare at Harrison's lifeless corpse before snapping its head away, leaving without a trace. From there it slips into an ally, away from sight, heading deeper in the crime infestation of Omega. The individual wavers with the shadows, deserving of its name… Omega's Ghost.

An assassin that asks for little, and performs high, killing the target the very night of assignment. The Ghost has lurked Omega for three years, and not one clue is known to who the person is under the helmet. Yet, one thing is known, Omega's Ghost isn't to be under estimated. Never to be under paid. For there will be consequences.

In the solitude of an empty bedroom, an Asari transfers her credits to the black armored apparition in her window. With a whisper of thanks and a nod the assassin accepts the payment. With a final salute, Ghost jumps out the window, riding the ledge till it reaches a fire escape. From there, it merges with the shadows once again. Not a sound, not a sign left behind, just a single memory.

The Ghost slips through the window of a worn down apartment checking its Omni Tool, curious of anything new, glad to find nothing. It slides onto the central couch and sighs tiredly before leaning forward and taking off its helmet. The black is forgotten as a short cut of blazing Auburn takes its place. Underneath, green eyes brighten a freckled face as they stare across the room. With a sigh, the helmet slips out of black gloved fingers.

"So… how did it go?" A human woman of light skin and jet black hair enters the room, taking a long drag of her cigarette. She gets no answer for the other just sighs and stares at the helmet as it rolls farther across the floor, giving no hint of looking up. The woman gives a distasteful 'humph' and walks to the kitchen. The redhead can't help but to flinch at the painfully tall high heels the woman wears, pressing its eyes close as with another sigh.

"I can't do this anymore. It is not what a girl my age does."

The woman lifts her head from her liquor, looking as if she was just insulted. She closes her brown eyes and lets off a soft breath as she lets herself calm down, opening them once again. She tilts her head upward, faking an innocent smile while she struts up to the girl. Gently, a falsely reassuring hand is laid on the saddened killer's shoulder.

"You have to go on though." The woman whispers, leaving a short silence as she observes the girl's lanky posture and hooded eyes, "Why don't you get some sleep my dear? You look exhausted."

The adolescent girl looks up to the woman with a trained smile, as fake as the woman's, "I guess I should. You are the boss Carla."

"Good night Maria."

"Night." Maria mutters getting up off the couch and grabbing her helmet. Silently she heads through the hallway, looking over her shoulder at her guardian as she opens the closest door. Rushing through the doorway she enters her room, her head low as the door closes behind her. With an angered growl she throws her helmet to the floor, her body tense and shaking.

"I'm not Maria. I'm White, bitch."

White doesn't know when she started to use her last name to refer to herself, but she always found it fitting. Safe in her room, she slows her breathing as she calms down her temper, taking off her armor and clothing till she is left to her underwear. Sitting on her bed, she wipes away the sweat on her body with a dirty shirt before standing and adding chalk mark to her counting on the far wall, above her disorderly desk. Adrenaline leaving her body, exhaustion takes over as she gives off a long yawn. Turning from the display of numerous white lines, she settles into her bed, hoping to finally get some proper sleep.

Multiple loud yells and the sound of breaking glass outside her window pulls her from her thoughts. Yet, for now all she can do now is roll onto her back and stare at the white ceiling.

"Oh, 98 bottles of beer on the wall. 98 bottles of beer. You take one down, pass it around, 97 bottles of beer on the wall."

Three whole years since she had woke up on this very bed, in this very building with a headache pounding her temples like a flaming hammer and not a single memory in her head. Through days of panic and anger, she quickly discovered her great skill in defense, figuring out her love of martial arts, and her powerful ability to use pistols and sniper rifles. Over the years multiple muggers and thieves lost their lives to the wrong sides of their own pistols, a couple of assassins themselves lost, countless dead for money, and one vigilante limping away, clear not to forget her temper.

"Oh, 1 bottle of beer on the wall, one bottle of beer. You take it down. Pass it around, no bottles of beer on the wall."

White swallows heavily, her throat tired and cracked. Weary with a week of sleepless nights, she lets out a drowsy sigh and rolls to her side, staring out the window. Very few people loom the street outside, very few people come to this neighborhood period. Yet this night is different, for there is a large group of Blood Pack mercenaries making their way down the street, and they look like they mean business. White creeps to the window and presses her ear to the glass, hearing the booming voice of the lead Krogan echoing in the mostly desolate street, "We're looking for Ghost, and we know you know where she is."

White turns her head to see the Krogan pinning her neighbor, a Turian she knows as Neff, to the wall of the building across the street. Swallowing a heavy lump in her throat, she jumps out of bed, making sure to pull a large duffle bag out from under the mattress in the process. Inside, she carelessly piles in her clothes, her black armor, sniper rifle, her teddy bear Mr. Bon Bon, and the rotting paper book that she found on the streets two years ago. With little thought she dresses herself in a shirt, jeans, and her pistol belt, nearly forgetting her overly large shoes. Reloading her pistol one more time, she throws it onto her side, swinging the duffle onto her back.

White runs out of her room and through the front door leaving Carla behind, but that didn't bother her. She dashes down the stairs and sprints out the back entrance, slowing as she carefully creeps down the alley ways. She has a plan as she heads to the slightly more crowded street that leads to the market district.

She leaves the current alley and tries to casually walk down the empty street to the next, tensing when footsteps come up from behind her. She turns to suddenly be face to face with a Vorcha. The Vorcha has on armor, Blood Pack armor. White backs up a step, her right hand creeping to her pistol. The Vorcha lets out a disgusting laugh as he grabs White's right arm and pulls her close.

She coughs at the Vorcha's putrid breath when he starts to speak, "Have you seen Ghost?"

White could feel herself shaking in fear as she closes her eyes. She lets out a stuttering breath and opens her eyes, staring in revulsion into the Vorcha's.

"Hell no, if I did I would probably be dead." She winces as the grip on her arm tightens and the Vorcha lets off a snarl, "I know you're lying you pitiful human, tell me the truth."

White freezes in disbelief. Her eyes look around desperately as she quickly looks for a plan, licking her lips. Her head lowers as she gives the Vorcha a wicked smile.

"I don't know where to find Ghost, but I know one thing…" She kicks the Vorcha, grabbing her pistol with her left hand before shooting him without hesitation, "you're dead."

Shadows emerge at the street's far end, causing White to sprint away. Soon enough, voices erupt behind her as she tears her way to the next alley. She just has to make it through the next street, and then she can lose them in the markets. Yet as she reaches the alley's exit, White finds large crowds shuffling down the next street, lightly cursing under her breath as she finds trouble entering the mass of shifting bodies.

Knowing of the large shadow looming behind her, and cursing her easy to see hair, she presses herself onto the wall of the nearest building and shimmies against it, finally catching a hole the crowds. People pass her, giving her looks of disgust or looks of curiosity. Ignoring them she continues until loud yelling and chaos erupts behind her, causing her to reluctantly freeze in her tracks. She looks over her shoulder to find the lead Krogan pushing his way through the crowd in her direction.

The Krogan doesn't know that she is Ghost, just someone that shot down the Vorcha, but White knew she is still in trouble and needs to lose him. Instead, she tries to fit into the crowd as best she could and fakes shock. The Krogan is getting closer and White is regretting waiting for other people to start running before she does.

Thankfully they do and White follows, sprinting with then with all her strength and stamina. Finally dashing through the door to the market district where she stops. Panting, White finds a familiar food stand.

White sits on one of the stools in front of the stand and kicks her bag under the counter. She grabs a menu and leans into it, turning the menu so she can see into the stand but can't be recognized by passing people. Lifting her head slightly, she gives sharp whistle to gain the attention of the Turian in charge.

With a groan, he turns and gives the teenager a Turian smirk, "Aw White, what is that get up for?"

"Just looking at the spe..." White freezes when she hears heavy footsteps coming from the back of the district where she had entered, "…cials."

White turns to see the Blood Pack Krogan, obviously pissed to no end and hides behind the menu again. The Krogan growls as he takes a look around, passing the stand without any second glances, heading deeper into the markets. White sighs as she lets out the breath she didn't even know she was holding and lowers the menu, turning to the Turian.

One look at his face, she knew his question is answered, "Um… You know, you look too busy to… make a special… um… how about one of your Varren meat sandwiches."

The Turian shakes his head before turning to make the order, "For the last time, they're not Varren meat."

White leans on her elbows, chuckling away her stress, "Well then, care to explain the bullet wounds I sometimes find in my meat patties… or maybe you should explain that little exchange with the Blood pack some time ago. You know, the one ended with you leaving carrying a dead Varren."

The Turian tenses, slowly turning before he hands her the sandwich, "Have you been spying on me?"

"Not spying per say, I've… oh I don't know… been keeping an eye on you."

"And how long have you been, 'keeping an eye on me?"

"Since the first time I had to peel scales from my sandwich." She jokes lifting off the top bread slice and starts scratching the meat, "Seeing that exchange got me thinking, you don't get much money from this stand, and Varren, though cheaper than most other meat, are still quite expensive. You need to pay in some way, and you get plenty of information from costumers. I can only guess that instead of credits you gave them information… information about Ghost. Now tell me, what did you tell them about Ghost?"

"What makes you think that the exchange involved Ghost?" If the Turian could he would narrow his eyes in suspicion, but all that showed was a subtle shaking. White smiled in satisfaction and leaned closer, her hands traveling to her side.

"That Krogan isn't all too subtle in his search." White states idly aiming her pistol over the counter. The Turian's eyes switch between White and the pistol, and his shaking increases. Slowly raising his hands he stutters to save his life.

"All I told him what I've been hearing. The rumors of how Ghost is maybe an Asari, or a human female looking at the armor's shape, a… and how people had seen her in the Apartment District, m…mostly around the 30 buildings. T…that's all, please don't kill me."

White smiles and replaces her pistol. She takes a bite of her sandwich and her Omni Tool glows.

"Thank you sir, here are the credits for the sandwich."

She slides off her seat and slings her bag back over her shoulder and struts back down the streets like nothing happened. The Turian lowers his hands and watches her leave before turning back around, "White, 19 years old? Bullshit."


	2. Pushed To The Edge

"We need more information about Ghost, what you gave us isn't helping."

Neff gasps in pain and lack of air as the Krogan presses him onto the wall even harder.

"Ok…kay, I saw Ghost… an hour ago… climbing into a window across the street… saw a human walk by it shortly after… a female with black hair… think her name is Carla… Carla White."

The Krogan grunts approvingly, dropping the dying Turian. Neff scurries away like a roach in light. The Krogan gives off a triumphant chuckle, "We got you now Ghost."

White searches the market district, the Krogan nowhere in sight. She focuses her senses, the world expanding as her eyes become sharper in concentration and her ears filter through the bustling buzz of the busy market. As she makes it back to the entrance and starts walking her way back home she picks up the Krogan's voice.

"That wasn't Ghost, wrong hair color. Must have been some random civilian, the real Ghost must be back at home. Come on."

"Carla is in trouble." White mutters as she starts to run down the streets to her home.

As she enters her street, she finds a large crowd surrounding two figures, the Krogan holding a screaming Carla by her hair. Carla pleads for her life as a shotgun is aimed at her stomach, tears running down her cheeks. People in the crowds give mixed responses, begging the Krogan to stop, or egging him on as White watches in horror.

She edges out the crowd before she dashes down into an empty alley and drops her bag. With all the speed she can muster she pulls on her black armor and arms herself with her sniper rifle, kicking the lightened bag under a nearby dumpster. The Krogan tenses his finger on the shotgun's trigger, chuckling happily. Carla gasps and sobs, begging for her life to deaf ears. The Krogan leans towards his prey, close enough that his sticky hot breath covers the pale skin of the woman, "Now you will pay for killing my squad leader you good for nothing…"

A concussive shot takes the Krogan's shields down and distracts him from his moment. He lifts his head to the roof of the building where he tore the woman from her bed to see a black figure aiming a sniper rifle in his direction. He drops Carla and roars angrily, aiming his assault rifle in Ghost's direction. The figure places the sniper rifle on her back and gives a half salute, running in the direction of the markets.

The Krogan gives pursuit, growling angrily. Ghost jumps from building to building before using a fire escape to make it to the ground, dashing through the market doors. She passes a cigarette smoking Elcor, a hissing Vorcha, and a Quarian down on his luck to race into the lower levels of _Afterlife_. The Krogan, as to be expected, is close at her heels.

Panicking, Ghost sprints to the stair case to the upper level with the raged Krogan gaining quickly. Ghost hastens her movements and dashes through _Afterlife,_ heading to the exit. She makes it to the door and jogs into the final exit hallway. She looks around, a vent grabbing her attention, but she has hesitated too long. Krogan throws her into the side wall causing a few Batarians to run out of the way and watch with their four eyed gazes.

The impact causes Ghost's shields to shatter and stuns her. Shaking off the clouds of dizziness, she grabs for her pistol, but finds the impact had thrown it off her side and out of arm's reach. White manages to stand but is knocked off her feet as she is charged again, rolling away from a stomping foot. She manages to stand once again and run, feeling the way half of her sniper rifle is swinging and tapping onto the armor on her legs, unusable. She hastily searches for her pistol, finding that it had skidded to the far side of the room.

Steading her breath she sprints for her life, sliding the last few feet and picking grabs the pistol. She reloads the pistol, glancing upwards to see the Krogan raising his shotgun. Pushing the thermal clip into place she raises the pistol and fires. The ping of the bullet bouncing off his armor fills the room as it is followed by multiple more.

Ghost immediately stands and starts quickly sidestepping, making sure she continues moving. As she continues she finds that exhaustion is slowly taking her accuracy, causing her hands to shake. In a vain attempt Ghost closes her eyes and focuses her breathing. Slowing she feels her blood rush, fueling her concentration.

She growls as she raises her pistol and fires multiple successive shot right at the Krogan's head. The armor is chipped away and fresh blood is splattered onto the grimy floor. The line of impacts causes the Krogan to lower his weapon and fall, landing in his own blood.

Ghost lowers her pistol, the adrenaline rush leaving her quickly. Her breathing is shallow and her body is weak. Her legs nearly give out and she stumbles forward a couple steps, vomit at her throat. Her vision is blurring, the floor as grey smudge. She tries to right herself but falls farther, landing on her hands and knees. Her eyes slowly close to darkness…

* * *

She finds herself waking on a comfortable leather surface. Opening her eyes she finds that she isn't looking through her visor. Upon realization her body sits up right, spurred with surprise. Looking around she sees an all too familiar face.

"Aria… wait, what! How am I here, where is my armor?"

Panic fills White as she foolishly looks around her seat.

"Aw, you finally decide to wake up, took you half a day." White stops and glares up at Aria's arrogant smile, "I saw that fight you had through the security cameras, and I am reluctant to say that I am impressed. Few can take down a Krogan Warlord single handedly, not to mention with just a standard pistol and on the edge of complete exhaustion."

"Why am I here?"

"To many, being able to sit here is an honor. I thought it would be a good gift for your feat."

White narrows her eyes. She knows how people speak, and knows when they are holding back. She can easily sense that through T'Loak's smugness.

"Your tone tells a different story. What is the real reason I'm here?"

Aria turns her head to White, impressed. Her smile widens as she straightens in her seat, leaning to meet White's gaze several inches beneath hers. White remains still, sleep having strengthened her resolve, turning it to stone.

"While you were asleep, someone came asking for you, a former Specter by the name of Commander Shepard."

"Bull-shit, Shepard is dead, rotten in her grave."

"Oh yes she is. I saw her guns and all, and she asked me where to find you. I gave her Carla's address…"

"How do you know Carla is associated with me?"

"She's a friend of mine. In fact, I'm the one charged to care for you if she dies."

"What!? But…"

"You are more important than you think, I can't say any more."

White stares at Aria in shock, blinking multiple times in surprise.

"Why put me on a possible suicide mission if I am so important?"

"It is what you are meant to do, you are a soldier. Not some petty freelance assassin."

Aria's face softens slightly and White just stares in surprise. White stays silent in thought, sighing as she reaches her conclusion.

"How long ago was this?"

"A couple minutes, better hurry now."

"Shepard is heading to the apartment district. Blood Pack is still in that area."

Aria nods as White looks away from her eyes. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nods, "I need my armor."

Aria smiles as she gestures to the other side of the couch, where a large blanket has been placed. White removes the blanket to see her newly cleaned armor laid next to a new pistol and sniper rifle. She puts the armor on and equips the weapons. She makes to exit, but stops at the stairs to look back at Aria.

"Thanks."

Aria nods as Ghost descends the exiting stairs. Taking in one big breath, Ghost heads home. As she enters her street she sees a terrifying sight. Dead bodies everywhere, most shot, some dead to multiple broken ribs. Blood Pack mercs and their Varren, with some innocents tossed inside for effect.

Ghost approaches slowly only to stop at the dead body she knew so well, Carla. Shot in the back of the head, eyes wide open in frozen fear. The assassin looks around some more, but doesn't find any sign of Shepard.

Tears pricking her eyes she kneels by Carla, saying nothing she closes the woman's eyes. She stays there and just stares at the body. Ghost sighs sadly as she turns to the alley where she had left her items. Standing up slowly she moves towards it, entering slowly.

Pushing away the pain in her chest she pulls her bag out from under the dumpster. She opens it and takes out Mr. Bon Bon, holding him with both hands. She rubs his belly with her thumb and swallows a sob. Putting him back she zips the bag up and puts it on her back.

She goes back to Carla and again kneels by her, holding in tears. She places a hand on Carla's head, sweeping hair away from her brow.

"Bye Carla, Mr. Bon Bon wishes you luck in death. We'll miss you, even if you made me continue to be the assassin I don't want to be, stole my well-earned credits for your booze, and only gave me nutrition paste for dextro-amino species. I forgive you, you dirty little bitch."

"We didn't come in time to save her."

Ghost jumps to her feet and aims her pistol in the voice's direction. She lowers it to see a redheaded woman in black armor. Behind her are two humans, a dark skinned man and a dark haired woman. Ghost puts her pistol back at her side and lowers her head.

"There was no possible way you that you could have come in time. It's been over half a day since they came. I don't blame you."

"We're sorry for your loss." The dark haired woman utters kindly.

"No need for any sympathy. I never liked her anyway. She was abusive, and a full on drunk." Ghost pauses as she attempts to gather wits about her, "I've been told you were looking for me, Commander."

"We need your help with a critical mission. Collectors are taking human colonies, and we are the only ones willing to stop them." Shepard responds, a tint of sorrow in her voice easily covered by her commanding tone.

Ghost had heard of the Collectors before, mostly from gossip on the streets. What she remembers is that they are a race that has access to advanced technology, usually seen when performing covert operations. They usually take people with natural 'unique' properties. Yet this is unique, for this isn't just a small group being taken, but a whole race. Joining this mission couple save billions.

"I accept your offer, anything to bring right to the wrong that I have brought here with the death of…" Ghost makes to say Carla's name, but finds her throat tightening dangerously in guilt so she stops, licking her lips as she tries again, "…so many innocent people."

"We should go before more Blood Pack come."

Ghost nods in response, all her words catching deeply in her throat. Shepard and the other two sense her internal battle and stay silent as well. The four find their way to the Normandy.

* * *

Joker turns as the airlock opens and Shepard, Jacob, and Miranda enter battle weary. He makes to turn back when a short female figure in black armor walks in, a large bag on her back. He had received Shepard's call saying that she had recruited Omega's Ghost.

He laughed at the thought that she had really recruited the illusive Omega's Ghost, but as the figure turns her head towards him he finds it no longer funny. Ghost gives him a light salute and walks down the hallway to the elevator. Joker turns back to the controls, regretting laughing at Shepard's abilities.


	3. Regrets

Ghost's eyes shine behind her visor as she looks at the Commander expectantly across the conference table, ignoring the two Cerberus agents also in the room.

"So, do you have any ideas why the Collectors are kidnapping colonies?"

"We suspect they are working for the Reapers." The dark skinned man, who she learned is Jacob answers.

"Reapers? Like the thing that attacked the Citadel two years ago?"

"Seems like you know your stuff." The dark haired woman, Miranda praises with a soft smile.

"I wasn't really busy that year so I watched a lot of the news. Besides, gossip is extranet fast on the streets. Everyone finds out one way or another."

"So where would you prefer to sleep in your stay here?"

Ghost answers Shepard with a passive shrug, "The crew's quarters are fine. I slept on a futon for three years, anything is an improvement."

"Okay then, you better go and rest. You never know what I could be planning for tomorrow."

Ghost nods and leaves, reflexively waving to people in the CIC as she enters the elevator, heading to the crew deck to drop off her few possessions and maybe get a well-deserved shower. As the elevator doors close she stretches her arms over her head and sighs.

It has been a long night, killing, and nearly getting killed. The best part is joining a mission to save the human race. A smile emerges under her helmet as the elevator starts to move.

She hasn't even removed her helmet yet, not really willing to bother with it. She considered removing it many times, but decided against it. It isn't just her being self-conscious, and shy, but it is mainly her distrust towards the Normandy. She never trusted anyone before.

The opening elevator doors push away her thoughts as she enters the crew quarters. At the moment the room is silent except for a snore here and there, and very dark. She looks at the rows of bunk beds on the sides of the room, looking for one that is not taken.

Wandering to back of the room, she finds a completely empty bunk in the left corner. Shifting her bag higher onto her shoulder, White opens the top locker on the bunk bed's side and unpacks her possessions, climbing onto the upper bunk to carefully put Mr. Bon Bon by her pillow. Taking out some clothes, she adds the bag to the locker and locks it up tight.

White soon exits the crew quarters and enters the woman's showers across the hall. Eager to breathe in the steamy air, she removes her helmet. Laying the helmet at her feet, she runs a hand through her sweat laced hair. She can't help remember the instance two months ago when she broke down.

* * *

 _She had just made it home from a kill. Her body was shaking, full of fear and regret. Carla was asleep and White was thankful as she stepped into the bathroom. Leaning on the sink White glared at her reflection, her eyes traveling to the reflection of her shoulder length hair. Tears ran down her cheeks as emotion flooded her very being._

 _Without thinking she grabbed the razor she and Carla shared for shaving their legs and started running it into her hair, having it the ground like some odd orange rain. In the end she stared at her newly bald head for an hour until Carla awoke. Carla gave her hell, slapping and hitting her until she was black and blue. White went to sleep bald and bruised. Needless to say she didn't sleep a wink that night._

* * *

Her hair had recovered, now about an inch long and darker than she had remembered. Shaking away the memory she removes her armor, letting it hit the floor carelessly before placing it on the counter next to the sink and laying her clean clothes on top. She slowly steps into the showers, using the middle of the three.

The hot water cascading down her back brought relief to her stressed muscles and a sigh of release leaves her lips. She taps the wall opening a panel holding shampoo and other soups. As she lathers her hair and turns around to face the wall to rinse out the soap, the door opens. White freezes as she hears footsteps enter, a blush flushes her face as she slowly turns off the water and scales the shower wall to her clothes.

She turns her head slightly to see a middle aged woman step into the shower to the left. White swallows a lump of her throat as she slips on some shorts. She shakes the moisture out her hair before quickly sliding on her shirt, and her socks. Without looking back, she picks up her armor and heads out the door.

White could swear she heard a breath of laughter before she left the bathroom, but a deep yawn shoves it to the back of her mind as she heads back into the crew quarters. She yanks the metallic privacy curtain closed and lies down. With a sigh she pulls Mr. Bon Bon to her chest and slowly drops into sleep.

* * *

 _White opens her eyes to pure darkness. She turns her head to find she's lying down, unable to move any other part of her body. The ground beneath her feels like cold metal and the air above her is still, almost sterile. Pain penetrates her body, escalating to an unbearable searing hot pain._

 _A scream leaves her throat, but it's far different from what she has heard before._ _It's high pitched, youthful, like it's from a small girl of about five or six. The pain recedes and White looks down her body, to see the body of a young girl in a hospital gown. Long bright orange hair lies under her like a brightly colored blanket, reaching her elbows at least. Tears fill her eyes and her head becomes foggy. Darkness descends on her once more_

* * *

White wakes with a gasp, light filtering through the curtain announcing the start of a new day. With Mr. Bon Bon still held close to her chest, she parts the curtain by her head and finds many people in uniform heading out the door, talking, teasing, and laughing. She waits for the last person, a woman of blonde hair, to leave before sitting up. She puts Mr. Bon Bon on her pillow and pushes the curtain completely back, sliding off the bed.

Stretching she walks through the room and out the door. Walking around the elevator she makes it to the mess hall, where many steaming bowls wait on the counter in front of the kitchen. White groans, stretching her arms over her head once again as she stumble towards the food.

People look at her with surprise and curiosity, muttering to each other. Without hesitation White grabs a bowl of food, turning right into some muscled woman. With a gasp White jumps back to see Shepard right in front of her. Nearly dropping her bowl White salutes, "Commander!"

"So that's what you look like beneath the armor Ghost. Aren't you a little young to be a famous assassin?" Shepard responds almost teasingly.

White lowers her hand, irritation on her face, "As long as you can handle a gun, you can be an assassin I say. Besides, I'm 19. I've been an official adult for a year and as of 2152 CE that makes me of drinking age."

"I guess having you on my ship is legal, but in order to make you an official member of my squad I need your real name."

"Maria White is my name, but I prefer to be called White."

"Well, good morning White."

"Good morning to you, Commander."

White nods before passing Shepard and sitting at one of the cafeteria tables.

"Well, this is going to be fun." White mutters under her breath as she finally does a full examination of her food, "Hey, this has fur on it!"

* * *

The flickering lights of the deserted street flash onto White's auburn hair as she sits at the curb outside her apartment. The teen stares at the spot a few feet away were Carla was sprawled, dead as a doornail. Her tense fingers clasp around the glass of Batarian Ale, the bottle lay next to her half empty.

It had been hours since Carla died, and White used her short shore leave to give the woman and her old home her final goodbyes. Face flushed from the Ale she refills her glass, her hand shaking slightly. Bringing the glass to her lips, she relishes the green liquid as it drips down her throat with a simple sip. It is the only liquor she tried that makes her drunk.

Many minutes pass as she finishes the bottle, throwing the empty bottle onto the street before standing, swaying slightly as she walks away. She wanders the streets, drunk and content. After an hour, she finds herself stumbling into Afterlife, making her way to Aria's lounge. The Turian guard raises his taloned hand at her, stopping her from climbing the stairs.

"Woah, you don't have permission to come up here."

White stops, swaying slightly as she looks up at the alien. She opens her mouth to speak, but finds herself interrupted by Aria from above.

"She has permission, let her up."

"Understood, sorry Miss."

White waves away his apology and makes her way up the stairs, stumbling slightly. Aria stands at the sight of White, dismissing the Batarian guard, "I am not to be disturbed."

The Batarian nods and leaves. Aria releases her stern exterior as she runs up to White, grabbing the girl's shoulders tightly.

"What has gotten into you, why are you in such a state?"

"Carla is dead Aria. Batarian Ale is the only way to numb the pain. What else can I do, throw dextro nuts off the top of a roof? That is not enough, not this time." Aria embraces White as tears start to fall out the assassin's eyes and several sobs run out her throat, "You are the only one I can go to. I can't let anyone else see me like this."

Aria tightens her hug, feeling the girl's cooling tears on the exposed skin of her top. Many seconds pass till White stops, sniffing as Aria lets her go. White dries her eyes and sighs, closing her eyes as she runs her fingers through her hair. Gently grabbing the girl's arm, Aria leads her to the couch, soothing the girl with helpful words, comforting White when she breaks down in fits of sobbing. Hours pass before White, sobering and tired, goes back to the Normandy, thanking Aria with a teary smile as she leaves.

* * *

White wakes the next day with a massive headache and a bout of vomit erupting in the back of her throat. With a pained swallow and an extra squeeze of Mr. Bon Bon she sits up to find her head spinning intensely. What happened last night? With a pained groan she replaces Mr. Bon Bon in his special seat and shoves the curtains, to hiss at the incoming light. The shock causes her to lose her balance and fall off her bunk, hitting the floor with a loud _thump!_

Groaning once again, though thankful for the room being empty, she gets up and slumps to her locker, forcefully opening it, to find her paper book falling to the floor. Muttering a silent curse White kneels to pick it up, to have something fall out the middle. She picks it up with the other hand and lifts it to the light. A camouflage patterned dog tag without any sort of number, just a name, _'Maria'_.

She was wearing it on the day she woke up those three years ago. With a sigh her eyes flick to Mr. Bon Bon, remembering he was under her arm that day. They are the only hints to her past, very small, very little, with no important information what so ever. Yet they were something and she would be crushed if something would happen to either.

She embraces the thought as her fingers close around the tag, a tear gracing her cheek. She replaces the book in her locker and grabs the tag's chain with her now free hand. The other hand grabs another part of the chain, widening the hole enough to slip it over her head. The cold chain causes her to shiver as it is placed onto the exposed skin of her tank top. White slams her locker closed as she heads into the mess hall for breakfast, groaning as her hangover continues to ravage her body.


	4. Diving Deeper

A high pitched whistle echoes in the room. Synthetic eyes narrow at the report before him, his finger gracing the crystal edge of his glass, a half burned cigar held tightly in the other hand. An old file, covered in the metaphorical dust of three years of abandonment, once more open to the eyes of one of a the few who are still allowed to peer at the data it holds.

A file newly opened by a distant fear, and sense of curiosity, new information and old hunches, all at the reader's fingertips. An ancient threat to Cerberus slowly unveils and all the man in charge can do is try to stay calm and hope it's just an old sense of paranoia.

 _The Artemis Project._

* * *

White gives a large yawn as she stretches her sore arms over her head. She enters the mess hall to see everyone sitting to breakfast, but seeing people with food is a different matter. No one had any in front of them. White looks up at the counter to see steaming bowls left untouched. She approaches and looks into one, no fur, it even has a spoon already in it.

Yesterday the food wasn't too bad, take off the fur and it was quite decent. Better than Varren sandwiches for sure. White sits down to many odd glances from the other people at the table. She grabs the end of the spoon and attempts to eat, attempt being the keyword in this situation.

The spoon doesn't even give a hint of budging. White changes the grip and pulls, pushes, even turns the bowl upside down. The spoon doesn't move. People chuckle at her efforts from their positions in the mess hall. With a growl she tries one more time, groaning in exertion.

With a pop the food and spoon fly out the bowl, right onto the side window of the med bay, the spoon is still lodged deep into the food.

"What is in this stuff, super glue?"

White sighs as she walks up to the window and grabs the spoon once more, people breaking into loud fits of laughter behind her. She puts her foot on the glass and pulls with all her strength, but it doesn't come off. With a huff White gives up, her face red from the strain she had already put into the task, "Never thought I would miss Varren meat."

The laughter dies down as White turns and steps away, but a voice behind her causes her to freeze, "Where do you think you're going?"

Knowing multiple eyes are glued to her position, White slowly turns to see a middle aged woman with gray and white hair, her arms crossed over her chest. The woman's expression is friendly and her smile teasing, but what freaks White out is her outfit. The one piece suit, the gloves, obviously a doctor's outfit, and doctors mean needles.

Licking her lips, White looks around for any kind of sign of Shepard, Miranda, or even Jacob to help her out this, but only finds that the other members of the crew are starting to leave in small groups. Carefully sorting her thoughts she finally clears her throat and speaks, "To the woman's restroom for a shower, Ma'am."

"I would rather you to remove the food from my window or the very least receive a full medical examination that I haven't had a chance to give you."

The doctor gestures in the direction of the med bay with a tilt of her head.

"I'll get a putty knife." White replies hastily turning around, but the doctor is fast as she catches White's shoulder and pushes her in the direction of the med bay.

"Come on, you can't avoid a checkup forever." The doctor chimes in motherly way.

"I was hoping that I can." White whimpers as she gives up, "What is your name anyway?"

"Dr. Chakwas and yours is Maria White, better known as the Ghost of Omega."

"Shepard told you, didn't she?"

"I also read your medical file, or should I say your lack of a medical file."

White looks to the Doctor in surprise as the doors open before the two.

"I have a medical file."

White's stern statement only causes Dr. Chakwas to chuckle slightly, stopping with a soft sigh.

"An empty one, which is the reason this examination is so important. It will help future doctors in later days."

White sits down on the medical bed closest to Dr. Chakwas's little office.

"Okay, I will participate. Yet that doesn't mean I'll like it."

"If everything goes right, I won't have to use needles." Chakwas opens one of her desk's drawers and takes out an otoscope, "Now let's get a good look at those ears."

"If everything goes right, and when was the last time that happened to me in my life?"

Chakwas presses the scope into White's left ear and her eye brows go up slightly. White stares at the doctor through the side of her eye, "What's wrong?"

Dr. Chakwas lowers the otoscope and carefully runs her thumb through the hair around Whites temple. Dr. Chakwas's expression becomes serious as she stands straight. She pushes a button to lower a metallic privacy curtain over the windows and starts typing at the terminal by the table where White is sitting. With a turn of her head she acknowledges White fully and gives a stern command, "Lay down, I'm going to need to scan you."

"What's wrong Doc?!"

White starts to shake as she lies down, staring intently at the scanner above her. A shockwave of Déjà vu hit White at the sight, as if she has done this a million times before.

"There is what seems to be medical scaring in the walls of your ears and on your temples."

White lies there stunned by the announcement. She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Yet she finds that her mouth continues opening and closing like a gaping fish. Her eyes widen as the room becomes dark, letting her body freeze as the scanning blue light runs across her body. The light left an odd tingling feeling in White's body.

As soon as it started the scanning was finished, the lights turn back on, and data swarms into the doctor's Omni tool. Obviously what the data says is past shocking, for it causes Chakwas's eyebrows to rise to the ceiling and she stumbles into her seat. White wasn't slow to notice that and fear hits her like a charging Krogan.

"Doc…?"

The door opens and Shepard rushes in with a concerned expression. She stops at the sight of White on the table lying under a scanner. After a second Shepard snaps her head to Dr. Chakwas, "I saw the food stuck to the window and the light of a scanning in here, what happened?"

"Commander, I found medical scarring around her temples and in her ear. I wanted to know if she had any brain damage in the past that might affect her in combat that wasn't in her file. When I scanned her I got more than I expected."

The Doctor forwarded the information to Shepard's Omni tool, while White lies frozen on the table. Shepard starts reading, her face soon showing shock and fascination. She turns off her Omni tool and shakes her head. With a sigh she turns to White and narrows her eyes, "You have some explaining to do."

White stares blankly at Shepard, her green eyes trembling in fear as her skin pales to the tone of tissue paper. What can a scan show that needs explaining? The possible head damage that brought her memory loss, wait, no that can't be it. Chakwas said that there was more than a head injury. But what could the scan show? White's lips tremble with the question, her answer coming out a nervous stutter, "What is to explain? Is it my memory? I can't remember anything past three years ago."

Chakwas examines her Omni tool with increased interest, "That would explain the swelling in the hippocampus," She turns her head to the two confused woman in the room and sighs, "One of the parts of the brain that holds memory."

"But it's been three years. Shouldn't the swelling have gone down?"

Shepard is quick to observe, her voice both confused and curious.

"There are a number of chemicals that could prolong the swelling for multiple years Commander, but I know of none that could make the swelling permanent. The scan had showed evidence that the swelling has already started to go away, she should regain her memory in a timeframe ranging from a matter of days to a few more weeks, maybe a month or two. I doubt that she would remember anything significant for a much longer time than that."

Shepard looks back down to White, who in the meantime is trying to wrap her mind around the doctor's words. Her memory should be coming back. Doesn't that explain her nightmare? Does that mean her nightmares would become more frequent… or will she remember better times… if there are any?

"White, that is not all the scans picked up."

White lifts her head to the Commander's voice, her eyes off and wandering. Her focus is off kilter and flying in the air, but the Commander's next words push it all back in line, "You are 45% cybernetics."

White could feel herself almost fall off the table. Her head is awash in disbelief and shock. Cybernetics, little machines making up nearly half of her body, and she didn't even have a clue!

Blinking a few times she tries to convince herself that she heard Shepard wrong, but how could she have. No other phrases that come even close come to her mind.

"C… cybernetics… in me, 45% of me. I… I…" White freezes before shaking her head, pinning her fingers to the sides of her head, "Son of a bitch. I'm a cyborg!"

Dr. Chakwas can't help but lay out a dry laugh at the girl's exclamation, "You can say that. There are cybernetics in your joints, in your eyes, in your ears, in your nose, even in her liver, kidneys, and other major organic filters. They heighten your senses, quicken your reflexes, and make it harder for you to be poisoned, and, on a lesser note, intoxicated."

"That explains the Batarian Ale… why would I have cybernetics, I mean, I…"

White slumps and places her head in her hands, staring at the floor. Her eyes are motionless as she gazes at a suddenly interesting spot by her foot, her mind moving at a million miles her per hour, "I'm not normal. I thought I was a teen, like every other with an obsession to guns and killing, but… the cybernetics… the… son of a bitch. Why me, why the fuck is it me!?"

Shepard sighs sorrowfully, laying a hand on the adolescent's shoulder. Tears hit the floor as White breaks down into a fit of sobbing with her hands completely covering her face. The tips of her fingers dig into her forehead, causing streams of blood to slowly roll from the skin, "I didn't want this. I never in the brief life I've known wanted to me a cyborg… freak."

Her last word was little more than a whisper, lost in a renewed fit of sobs. Soon she sat up, tears and drying blood covering her face. Shortly after her strength leaves her and she lies back, staring at the scanner. The feelings of Déjà vu and familiarity becoming a comfort for her as she strains at ask the only question on her mind. With trembling lips she asks, "Is there anymore… stuff to tell me?"

Shepard looks to Dr. Chakwas who shakes her head. White bites her lip, slightly relieved, but feeling so very broken. She soon drifts off to a comforting sleep, Shepard taking it upon herself to carry the teen back to her bunk in the crews quarters, laying Mr. Bon Bon in White's arms.

The resurrected woman watches as the teen squeezes the bear, disbelieving of how the girl could be such a feared assassin. With a sigh Shepard takes one last look at White before pulling the privacy curtain and leaves the room. She has important business to do, for she has a scientist to recruit.


	5. Shell Shocked

White wakes to a dull darkness, very little light filters through the curtain. Stretching she sits up, soon having her head fall into her right hand. She is still in shock from the information she gained from the scan. Carefully White addresses her body, finding the faint medical scars of surgery, obviously very good surgery to leave such subtle scars. White stops and stares at the black band on her left wrist.

She opens her Omni tool in a flurry, searching for any information that can point her to what had happened to her.

Is the cybernetics from a lifesaving surgery after a brutal accident, or is she… White couldn't find the way to end that thought. Is she really a Maria, not a Megan, or a Rebecca? The Omni tool flushes with possible leads, but after hours of reading nothing significant shows. Only news of colonies going missing comes to her attention, missing human colonies. With interest Maria finds many news reports of human colonies going missing.

The human colony Freedom's Progress and many others are gone, totally empty, kidnapped by some mysterious force. Those that haven't been abducted are flagged as at risk. Horizon, Ferris Fields, and many more, the alliance says they are posting soldiers and anti-aircraft canons onto the colonies to help stop the abducting, but nothing is for sure.

Turning to Mr. Bon Bon, she gives a dismissing nod as she turns her Omni tool off. Sliding off her bed, White heads out the room. She enters the elevator, her first destination, well, hell she doesn't know. Her first thought is to wing it and just greet the first person that looks in anyway interesting. Stepping out the elevator, she inhales the recycled air of the CIC, her eyes looking around.

With one step she is greeted by a fellow red head, a red head with an obnoxiously friendly smile, even if it is classified as small. In her best attempt to not insult the woman she fakes a smile and walks away. Stopping and looking over her shoulder White tries her best to gather her ruffled wits. With a sigh White looks around to the people too busy to acknowledge the new character in the room, her eyes stopping at the hallway to the Pilot's area.

She slowly approaches, eyeing the seemingly boring people working on the sides of the hallway. As she enters a blue bulb by the Pilot catches her attention. Stepping towards the bulb her curiosity peaks, "What is this thing, a VI?"

To her surprise, the bulb speaks, "I am the ships AI. I am known as E.D.I."

"An AI!?"

"Yes an AI and it's really annoying."

White turns are head as the Pilot's chair swings around revealing a man with a short beard and a baseball cap. White turns her head and gives E.D.I a smirk, "Better not annoy me, I know how to hack into a door or two, no doubt I can find my way to the AI core and pull a few wires."

The Pilot laughs, smiling widely, "Tell me when you do that, I'll make sure to lend you my soldering gun."

"Tampering with my hardware is strictly forbidden Ms. White."

"It's not Ms. White, AI, it's just White."

"Why White? Why not red or orange?"

White turns to the pilot and approaches him, her expression playful.

"Don't push it Pilot. I'm stronger than I look."

"And I have brittle bones disease. Not a good combination."

White smiles, lifting her head to the stars beyond the window, "You chose a fine job Brittle Bones, barely having to move, and such a fantastic view, who wouldn't want that kind of job?"

"My name is not Brittle Bones, its Joker."

"Not anymore." White gives Joker a teasing smile, turning around she gives an over the shoulder wave, "Bye Brittle Bones."

* * *

White exits as the elevator stops in engineering. Her footsteps echo across the metal floor as she walks around to investigate. After opening two sets of door she finds herself looking into a room with terminals and the drive core in the back. Two engineers catch her attention, a man and a woman. She enters with trained stealth.

"The new armor reinforcements really threw off the gravimetric profiles, but engines are good to go. I rebalanced the Gilbourne coefficients and adjusted the anterior intake on the second tier stabilizers." The woman says in a Scottish accent.

The man turns to her with a joking smile, "I love it when you talk dirty."

White stands for a few moments, confused and amused. Finally she decides to to speak, "So that is how engineers talk dirty, oh how everything makes sense now."

The engineers turn around to see White standing there with a smile of her lips and a tall stance, her hands held behind her back. The man scratches the back of his head in embarrassment, "You heard that?"

"I won't tell anyone."

"Oh thank you."

"So you're the engineers that keep this vessel running. I honestly didn't know what to expect with a ship like this and the highly important mission that is saving the humanity."

The woman smiles, "Cerberus chose us specially, it is a great honor."

"I jumped at the chance to help kick the Collectors right in their daddy bags."

The man gives the eager gesture of punching his hand, chuckling under his breath.

"I'm honored with the privilege to go out to field and shoot them through my scope."

"But first why not have to privilege to join us in some Skyllian Five Poker."

White grabs the man's collar and pulls him close with an evil smile.

"Oh ho, you're on engineer."

* * *

White walks out the engineering, her Omni tool aglow as she counts her numerous winnings. She doesn't know if it was her glorious wit or pure luck, but she put Kenneth in his place much to the amusement of Gabby.

Whatever it was she is two hundred and fifty credits richer. She finds herself riding the elevator back to the CIC, hoping to actually talk to Jacob. Upon leaving the elevator she finds the door to the science lab actually green, not red like earlier.

She enters the room with the doors hissing closed behind her. Her eyes look around before finally landing on the figure behind the desk of the room. Her eyes watch as he types with three fingered hands on his little console.

* * *

Luther slowly scrolls through a datapad, sadness and sorrow in his eyes. His eyes flick from picture to picture as they paint the screen. Every once in a while his gaze switches to the old uniform in his closet, the Cerberus insignia on the shoulder giving him shivers along his spine. The cool glass under his fingers beckons once more as he turns his gaze back down. The little three year old grinning girl in the arms of a younger and happier version of him brings tears to his eyes.

His wife Laura enters with slow steps as she lays a hand on his shoulder. She never knew the girl, and never understood the grief her husband has towards her. Every conversation about the little girl soon dwindles into silence, full of sadness and regret that pierces her heart with needles of pain. All she can do is look at the pictures with him, and guess. How good she has gotten at that over the years amazes her.

Laura's eyes examine the girl once more. Observing the girl's plump lips, big ears, and solid green eyes, sliding across slightly curling auburn hair, freckled skin, and the white jump suit in which she is clothed, finally landing on the Cerberus symbol on the suit's shoulder.

Who is this girl?

* * *

White examines the Salarian for numerous seconds, spying the scars on his aged skin, the broken horn, and the wide knowledgeable eyes. White felt nervous being in the same room as him, not knowing who he is, or any bit of his personality. She turns to examine the machinery on the right side of the room.

She carefully examines the items by sight, eyeing a strange bug in a glass case muttering, "A Salarian on a Cerberus ship, humanity is getting desperate." She soon turns and faces the alien head on, "So what's an old Salarian like you doing on a Cerberus ship?"

The Salarian tilts his head up to White, his knowledgeable eyes gleam kindly as they examine White for the first time, "Technically not old. Humans live approximately a century. Salarian's only half that time. Reapers threat to all species, not just human. Knowledge of Collectors valuable."

It takes many seconds for White to comprehend the Salarian. In the meantime of her thinking, she opens her mouth and stands there like an idiot, raising a finger into the air. She likes Salarians as a species with their high IQs and wide eyes, but their speech can be the death of her.

"That is true." White says waving her finger absently, "The Collectors need to be researched. Not much is known of them."

The Salarian nods his head as the door behind White swooshes open. White turns to see Commander Shepard entering with a firm gate, signaling that she is here for important business. White immediately salutes, causing the older woman to waves her hand dismissively.

"May I speak with Mordin in private for a minute?"

White nods and rushes out the room, entering the CIC. With a sigh she looks at the time on her Omni tool, 6:00 pm. She nods and turns to the elevator, really not wanting to see what's for dinner tonight. She enters the mess hall to see only one bowl was taken, and a man throwing up in the corner.

White holds in a dry heave as she turns to the crew quarters. She doesn't need dinner anyway. She undresses in the empty room and puts on some pajamas before wearily climbing the ladder to her bed. She lies on her bunk and slowly closes her eyes.

* * *

 _A dull ache fills White's body as she opens her eyes to a tiny shadow filled room. She props herself on her elbow as she takes in the room fully. Empty of everything except a desk, toilet, and the cot where she lay._

 _She lies for many minutes as the tingling pain in her body starts to increase uncomfortably, but she tries to ignore it as she stares at the door on the far wall. A glint of light soon causes her to turn her head. She slowly stands, noting how everything is starting to come to her as larger than she had expected and approaches a window on the side wall, only to look down three layers of metal walkways to a large concrete room._

 _White blinks as she takes another step towards the window, pulling herself to her tiptoes and pressing her nose into the cold glass. It all seems eerily familiar. The door opens revealing a tall man, the white suit he wears decorated with a Cerberus symbol on his shoulder. The depressed creases on his young features making him look much older than he is._

 _He approaches her and kneels to her side. White is disturbed, not only by the fact that she feels that she has met this man before, but how he has to kneel to be eye level to her. White's height is short compared to most around her age. Yes, but not that short._

 _She carefully flicks her eyes to her hands, to see that they are awfully small and youthful. A six year old's hands, but every joint is raw and covered in stitches. Her eyes follow her arm to a white sleeve, loose to her skin and comfortable._

 _"Hey Temis, still a little sore from surgery?"_

 _White's head shoots up immediately at the name he called her. It rings so many bells in her head, but they are muffled and she can't seem to locate them in the haze. She can only stare back into the man's eyes, sadness dipping into her as they droop somberly._

 _"It's okay if you're mad at me, but I wasn't told that this would happen. I'm so sorry that this happened."_

 _Tears fill White's eyes, her lips opening as she starts to speak, but what words she has no clue, "My body hurts! I no like it! Make it stop Luther!"_

* * *

White's eyes open, a sob rushing through her. Her eyes close again as she presses her face into her pillow, tears running out her eyes and sobs shaking her body. Poor Mr. Bon Bon as he is squeezed tightly as White continues to cry into the night. Some of the other crew wake slightly, and lay quietly in pity.


	6. Recollections

The next morning White sighs as her nude form is placed under the steaming water of her morning shower. Her dog tag swinging on her neck as she leans onto the wall in front of her, her forehead laying on her right arm. Her eyes follow it closely. Her head tilts as she notices something unusual.

The tag is dripping brownish liquid. She straightens as she holds the tag before her. Maria stares head on into her glare. White turns it over and notices a large brown splotch on the back has washed off slightly. She rubs her thumb over the rest of the splotch, finding it to be blood that has dried on years ago.

What she her rubbing reveals shocks her, causing the tag to slip out her fingers. The tag stops its drop suddenly as the chain catches it, the light glinting off its newly cleaned surface. The Temis shines as the tag lands on White's chest.

White slowly drops to her knees, her freckled skin unusually pale.

* * *

 _"Luther has kidnapped the subject!"_

 _A voice bursts through the darkness as light practically blinds White. She blinks and she realizes she is being carried as another runs with her tight in his grip, her body weak and her vision slightly blurry. She looks over herself, seeing she's somewhere in her middle teen years and in a hospital gown._

 _Behind the stranger's shoulder are guards waving pistols racing up from behind. A gasp leaves her lips as she turns her head to the man holding her. To find Luther from her dream, his face full of fear and determination. Fear and rage fills White as they continue down the hallway._

 _"Luther, what the hell are you doing? You could be killed!"_

 _Luther keeps his attention in front of them, "I can't let them do this to you anymore. I can't let you be hurt like this."_

 _White freezes in shock, "You risk your life for my freedom?"_

 _Luther only nods. White stares at her hands sadly,_

 _"There is no freedom. I will still remember this place."_

 _"Not for much longer."_

 _Luther quickens his pace as the two reach a large set of doors that open to pure light. The light fills all of White's senses till_

* * *

 _…_ Darkness.

"Do you think she is still able to continue the mission in this state?" A muffled voice approaches Whites hearing.

"I'm not sure anymore. Kelly found her in the shower like this. She could fall in the heat of battle if this isn't dealt with." A slightly clearer voice responds.

"Shock from the news of her implants maybe triggering this reaction, suggest relaxation, bed rest, shore leave to do something fun maybe. Have other ideas, but the results can be problematic." The foggy voice of Mordin rings.

"The Citadel is our next stop. She can relax when we are up there." Miranda suggests.

"Your right Miranda, for the time we are on the Citadel, White is on medical leave." The voice of Shepard states dismissively.

The group mutters agreements as they leave. White can only continue to lay there on the medical table, enjoying the cold metal under her skin. Maybe a trip to the Citadel will be good for White, it's definitely better than Omega.

* * *

Margret slumps into her seat, her job having drained her mind and body. She stares at the painting on the wall above her desk, a sigh running through her lips. Her hand pulls through her tightly curled hair, her brown skin shiny with sweat. Her eyes close and her lips pull together followed by tired sigh. She leans over her desk and passively looks through the many data pads that litter it.

Every pad is tossed aside, not even being read. They are all just old plastic surgery, cybernetic implant, and emergency surgery reports, but one pad she throws too far, causing it to slide to the floor. With another sigh she pushes out her legs, scooting the chair back as she leans forward. She reaches for the pad with a squeak as she stretches her arm to its limit. She grabs the pad and pulls back quickly.

She searches the title with curiosity for _TOP SECRET_ lines the top in bold red letters. She slowly scrolls till her body freezes. _The Artemis Project_ , something she remembers all too well. Tears fill her eyes as the pad falls to the floor, the picture of a six year old auburn haired girl covered in Medi-gel and bandages strapped to a surgery table plastered to its screen. After many seconds of being frozen in her chair, Margret leaves the room.

She is determined to find the people who would want to do such things to the little girl, and have revenge and she knows just the person to go to. Yet it's going to cost her.

* * *

White slowly opens her eyes, blinking into the intense light. She sits up, putting her aching head in her hands. She gives a sigh and drops her hands to her lap, groaning as she bends her head back.

"Good morning."

White shifts her head to the voice to see the friendly face of Dr. Chakwas.

"Morning Doc, it's nice to see you again."

"Why am I seeing you exactly?"

White shifts her position so she's sitting up straight, pulling her knees to her chest, "I remembered A LOT…"

"So you fainted in shock."

White sighs pressing her face into the legs, "I'm not meant to go on this mission."

"Don't think like that, White you should hear what I found in your scan reports."

White pushes her face deeper into her legs, muffling her query into a barely audible "What?"

"The amnesia drug wasn't out of your system completely. In fact it was in a concentration that is too high to have been in you for three years. Your previous guardian on Omega has been drugging you."

White stiffens as she lowers her knees. She turns to the Doctor is disbelief, swinging her legs over the table's edge, "So the drug is leaving my system, bringing back my memory."

Chakwas nods simply. The ship seems to jostle, a slight compression filling the air for a matter of seconds. White's body tenses as nausea fills her stomach. Unable to keep her lunch down, White runs to the nearest trash can. The med bay door opens as White leaves her deposit.

"First time in space kid?" A metallic voice asks behind the red head.

"Not sure, feels like…"

White's stomach erupts once again interrupting her. White stands, wiping her mouth to see a Turian with the right side of his face heavily scarred. She swallows as vomit tickles the back of her throat. She locks her jaw as she smiles.

"When Shepard said that Ghost is in the Med Bay, I didn't expect to see a human so… with such hair. Considering the stunts that you've pulled, including you shooting me."

"I'm not the only one who pulls stu… st.." White gags dangerously, but manages to swallow it, "Stunts."

"Never thought you as the one to get relay sickness." Chakwas laughs as White shoots her a glare.

"So, Archangel, what's your real name?" White says, changing the subject.

"Garrus Vakarian. What's yours?"

"White, like the color of this room."

Garrus chuckles at White, causing the faintest smile to lift the corners of the adolescent's lips softening her hard expression. Ghost and Archangel's friendly rivalry goes back years since Ghost had attempted to take Archangel's life. After a fight that ended in stalemate, they agreed to stay out of each other's way, but they had still met up with varying results.

White lowers the trash can, her stomach settling. Chakwas immediately stands and picks it up, bringing it out the med bay to dispose of the vomit inside. She is notably holding her nose as she does so.

"Nice to know you two are getting along." Shepard announces passing Chakwas as she enters the room, smiling sweetly in Garrus's direction.

"Getting along is a loose term, just say that we are _very_ familiar with the other's existence."

Garrus's expression tightens as he glares at her.

White chuckles turning to Shepard, "We only met a few times, one time he shot me in a fire fight. The next I shot him back…"

"That shot took out my shields and you nearly…"

"Well you're alive now aren't you?"

"Yes, BUT…"

"OKAY, so you don't have the best track record with each other, but at least you are somewhat friends." Shepard interrupts as Garrus makes an angered step in White's direction.

"Right." White blurts loudly.

Garrus sighs, stepping back as he seems to calm down slightly, "Right."

"Good, we have four days of flying ahead of us. The more we tolerate our team members the better." Shepard says, turning on her heel as she exits.

White turns to Garrus with a smirk before walking out herself. She stretches her stiff arms as she exits, swinging them at her sides as she looks down at her feet. She turns to a hand on her shoulder to see Chakwas once again with the trash can empty in her hand.

"How did I get drugged?" White whispers to the doctor. "I don't know, but my best guess is while you were asleep. However she didn't leave any signs. I can only infer that she did it."

White hums in acknowledgement before starting for her room. She enters and gets into her bunk as fast as she can, pulling the privacy curtain and leaving her in darkness. The teenager presses herself into the bunk's far corner and hugs Mr. Bon Bon tightly, closing her eyes.

* * *

White sits at one of the mess hall tables, the hologram of a hand of cards float before her as she looks up at her competition. Garrus strokes his mandibles in thought as Joker stares intently at his own hand. White looks to her side to see Mordin smile jubilantly.

"Have any threes?" He asks quickly to White's smirk.

"Go fish Solus." White remarks as she turns to Garrus, "V, you got any twos?"

Garrus groans as he flicks the two cards over to White as she pushes them into a group and puts them to the end of the hologram, joining three others.

She turns to Joker and grins, "Hey Brittle Bones, got a seven?"

"I swear you've got to be cheating White." Joker complains as he pushes his seven to the teen, completing another foursome.

"Well, I swear I am not. Solus, do you have any sixes?"

"Go fish."

"Damn."

White flicks her finger on the deck and adds the last card from the pile to her hand.

"White you have any tens?" Garrus asks, leaning onto the table.

"Really?" White mumbles as she passes over three of her cards, leaving two left.

"Joker, you have any eights?" Garrus continues.

"Aw, man!" Joker exclaims as he pushes over his last two cards.

"Tuff luck pal." White murmurs to the pilot.

"White, you got any sixes?" Garrus continues.

"AW SHIT V!" White exclaims sliding her last cards to the Turian, "Brittle Bones is wrong. You're the one that's cheating."

Garrus chuckles with a shrug, "Just Turian intuition I guess. Mordin you have any threes?"

Mordin pushes over the last of his hand, as Garrus pushes all his cards into foursomes. White peers over to Garrus's screen and frowns, six groups. One more than her meaning he wins. White sighs as she begins to clap with the others, Garrus standing triumphantly. Honestly being stuck on the ship for four days with these guys can really do a number on girl like White.

"Joker, we need you back in your leather chair. We are about to exit the Mass Relay." Shepard announces as she enters the room.

"On my way." Joker mutters hobbling to the elevator.

The others get the hint and leave as well, leaving only White smirking in her chair.

"How you feeling White?" Shepard asks taking Joker's previous seat.

"Better." White murmurs as she takes down her halo cards screen. She hasn't told anyone about what has remembered. Ever since that day in the showers she has been obsessing over her Omni tool, looking for more clues, maybe spawn more memories.

She hasn't come to anything as of yet, but the pit of her stomach has been telling her that she's close to something. What it is though, she hasn't quite figured out. The others on the team haven't been any help.

Shepard sees the thought and worry etched on White's face as she continues to ponder her thoughts, causing her features to soften, "White, you can tell me what's worrying you. We are like family here, which means we need to trust each other."

White sighs, looking up to Shepard with gloomy eyes, "Promise me you won't tell anyone else what I tell you."

"I promise."

White's expression tightens, her eyes closing and a sigh leaving her lips, "Four days ago, the night before I passed out in the shower. I remembered a man named Luther that seemed to be in about his twenties. He was wearing a uniform with Cerberus symbol on his shoulder. I seemed to be about six in the memory, and my body was covered in stitches and fresh surgery scars. He was to pleading me, saying he didn't know about this, apologizing."

White lets out a slight sob, wiping a tear running down her cheek, "H…He called me a name, Temis. It's so familiar, yet, I don't know why he would call me that. Yet it's important, because…"

White's hands shoot to her neck, grabbing the chain that holds the dog tag. Shepard watches carefully, her hands folded together before her. White throws the tag onto the table, turning it to the once unreadable side. Temis is plain to see in the bright lights of the mess hall.

"This is one of the only things that I had when I woke up those three years ago. I found the writing in the shower four days ago. Then I slipped into another vision where…"

White lips close tightly as she stands and grabs the tag off the table. Tears drip off her chin as she walks to the end of the table, leaning on the end as she hugs herself tightly. Shepard stands behind her approaching silently before placing a comforting hand on the teen's shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze.

"What happened?" Shepard asks in a surprisingly soft voice.

White lets out a breath, her tears stopping as she straightens her body. She starts a couple times before speaking in a shaky voice.

"Luther, he was carrying me down a hallway. Men with guns were chasing us, saying stuff like, 'Luther has the subject, kill him.' I was about sixteen then, wearing a hospital gown. I yelled he could be killed, yet he answered that he couldn't let them do something to me. He didn't want me hurt."

White's features sadden even more, before speaking in a whisper, "He risked his life for my freedom. He promised I will not me sad anymore, promising to release me of my memories."

White looks to Shepard's comforting face. Shepard's expression is motherly as the Commander rubs the girl's shoulder before giving it a finishing pat and straightening once again. White hugs her superior without a moment's notice, a sob exiting her throat. Shepard rubs White's back in small circles.

"Come on, let's get to the Citadel." Shepard dismisses.

White nods she releases her superior wiping a tear away with her sleeve before they both enter the elevator.


	7. An Old Face

The artificial sun of the Citadel has set hours ago on a distinct human ward, modeling the city of London with many large brick buildings and a distinct representation of Big Ben. It is a common tourist attraction to aliens unable to visit Earth itself to examine the culture and architecture of the actual city. A large hotel near the center of the ward is the temporary home of an aging Margret Peters, a professional surgeon specializing in the application of cybernetics. A black figure creeps to the hotel window.

Ghost, lightyears from her usual hunting ground found one of her old job finders who had to run out of Omega because of 'reasons'. An anomalous source asked for this hit, offering a spectacular amount for her execution on the behalf that she knows too much and is starting to inquire. The source is also offering an awesome bonus for the information as well.

Ghost lands in the room swiftly, looking around only to find it empty. Putting her pistol back onto her hip, she starts to search. Opening her Omni-tool, she activates the search program, waving her hand around the room. The soft pinging slowly gets faster as she gets deeper into the room. It isn't an amazing room, a queen sized bed, desk, mini-fridge, and small bathroom, that's it.

As Ghost reaches the desk, she is convinced that the file she is looking for is in the pile that adorns the surface. Turning her Omni-tool off, she starts shuffling through the files, quickly finding the pad decorated with TOP SECRET, narrowing her eyes, a slight ting of pain rushes through her temples as she examines the report. The Artemis Project, Artemis… that kind of sounds like Temis.

A shock of pain rushes though her head as she nearly drops the pad, shaking her head, Ghost does her best not to pass out. She does her best not to scream and give herself away as she leans on the desk, gasping as silently as she can. Footsteps in the hallway cause her head to turn at a painful speed. Backing away, Ghost rearms her pistol as her grip tightens on the datapad. The pistol shakes slightly her her hand as Ghost tries to ignore the pain and aims the weapon at the door.

The door opens and a woman of African-American decent enters, stepping back in fear at the sight of Ghost. The woman's face is so familiar, bringing nauseating waves of agonizing déjà vu. Pain ripples through Ghost as she drops the pistol and pad, and lands on her hands and knees. Tears in her eyes, she lets out a slight whimper.

"W-who are you?" Margret almost screams, her voice shaking violently.

"Temis." Ghost says in a barely audible whisper, falling onto the ground as she loses consciousness.

* * *

"What happened to the girl that she needs so many cybernetics?" Doctor Peters asks Luther as he picks up the drowsy patient. Margret tasks off her mask, putting away her spare sutures and cleaning the needle.

"She was in a bad accident, I can't really say more."

"I want Mr. Bon Bon Luther!" The little girl whines, tightening her hands on Luther's uniform, tears in her eyes.

"It will be alright Temis. We are going to your room so you can go beddy-bye."

"That must have been a terrible accident, but the thing that I don't get is that she has no sign of injury besides her new surgery scars."

"She was exposed to a hazardous substance. It mainly affected her ligaments, reducing her flexibility, but also destroyed to tissue of some of her major organs and did some damage to her sensory organs as well."

Margret stares at Luther skeptically. If so much of her body was affected, then her nervous system and brain would have been also affected, yet she seems to have no mental deterioration. Not to mention the way Luther's explanation seemed much too rehearsed to be true, but the damage is done and she can't do anything that won't make the problem worse. With a sigh she removes her gloves and watches the man bring the child out of the room.

* * *

Margret carefully approaches the armored figure, unsure if the individual is still aware or not. Temis was what Luther called that little girl in the Artemis Project. Picking up the datapad the person dropped, she finds the very file she was thinking of. Scrolling down she finds the picture, if this stranger is Temis, they should bare resemblance. Turning the person onto its back, Margret finds the helmet's release latches and lifts them up.

A hiss is heard and the helmet is detached from the rest of the armor. Slowly sliding the piece of armor off, Margret half expects long auburn curls to roll out. As she shakily removes the helmet, she drops it in shock. A human for sure, with sort auburn hair brushed to a point above the head and obviously feminine features. Freckles group on the bridge of her nose and dust the rest of her paling face.

The figure groans, shifting slightly, but doesn't wake. The fluttering of her eye-lids indicates REM sleep. She's probably having vivid delusions, but that is good sign for she isn't completely comatose. Laying a hand on the girl's head, Margret finds she is fighting an intense fever.

She is definite match to the girl in the pictures, but why is she here? With a sigh, Margret picks the girl up and lays her on the bed, slowly removing the constricting armor. The girl shifts a couple more times, but still doesn't wake. As Margret starts to undo the clasps of her right gauntlet, Temis screams loudly and starts to writhe violently, her back arching and tears running down her cheeks. It stops as soon as it started, but it makes it quite obvious that she is having some kind of nightmare.

Margret backs away quickly in surprise, running to the back the room. She grabs a pack from the closet, and runs back. She opens the pack, taking out a needle and bottle of sedative. Putting in a small dose, she presses the needle into Temis's skin. The sedative doesn't seem to last long after it takes effect as the girl starts to shriek and squirm once again.

Looking at the bottle and reading the label, Margret glances at the pad. She grabs the pad a skims it, suddenly realizing the problem. Temis needs a higher dose because of the cybernetics in her kidneys and liver filter out larger amounts out of her blood as it passes through. Taking that into consideration, she takes another dose from the bottle, hurrying before Temis as another attack and alerts the neighbors even more. No doubt she will have C-sec at her door soon.

Finally calming Temis, Margret finishes removing the girl's armor. With a sigh, Margret examines Temis for infections that can be causing the fever. Finding nothing, she deduces that it can be illness or physical stress. With a sigh, she reopens the pack and gives Temis an anti-viral and antibiotics. She goes into the bathroom and moistens a cloth with cold water, wringing it out and reentering to room to place it on Temis's head.

Sitting at her desk chair, Margret sighs, putting her head in her hands. Why is Temis here, now? Why was she in armor and carrying a pistol, and why did she pass out at that time. Did she know she was feverish, or did the fever just started to occur? So many questions and the answers are all held by an unconscious teenager with a high fever.

She looks at the girl again, and slowly stands. There is another place where there can be answers, Temis's Omni-tool. Cautiously lifting the girl's wrist, Margret removes the device and puts it on her wrist. Opening it, she finds a pretty secure allotment of files and internet bookmarks. Opening her browsing history, Margret finds many different searches made over the last few days.

She has been searching around for her old caretaker Luther, but also some other names like Maria White and an assortment of searches for Temis. She also has been searching a lot for records of extensive cybernetic surgeries, accidents that require large amounts of cybernetics were needed to keep the survivor alive, and cybernetic procedures for young children. She lately has been searching up the Collectors and the missing human colonies, visiting human news sites about the rumor that Commander Shepard is still alive.

The searches don't follow any real order, all random and sporadic, but Margret can make a guess to what could be happening. Temis wants to know who she really is, and is trying to figure it out. Much like Margret herself when she stole the datapad the day she did the procedure.

A knock on the door draws Margret's attention, opening it to see a Turian C-sec officer. Glancing back into the room towards bed where the girl lies, she looks back at the alien with a weary expression. Rubbing her tired eye, she gives a mild yawn.

"Any problem officer?"

"I am here to investigate a noise complaint, something about screaming coming from this room."

Margret sighs, pushing her hand through her hair and letting it fall through to her shoulder, "Yes, I'm so sorry. A dear friend of mine had me keep an eye on her sick daughter, and the poor dear had some intense nightmares from her fever. She is alright now, her fever broke some time ago and she has calmed down. She is getting better and there should be no more screaming."

The Turian inspects her, his eyes peering over her closely. Satisfied with her explanation, he types down some notes on his datapad and clears his throat.

"You are in the clear for now, but I better not have to come back, you hear?"

"Yes officer." Margret replies as the officer nods and leaves.

Closing the door, Margret sighs in relief. Turning around, her eyes land on the bed as she stares at Temis. Making an internal decision, she moves the datapad and takes off Temis's Omni-tool. With a heavy sigh, Margret ties up her hair and puts on a light jacket, leaving the room and locking the door behind her.

* * *

Temis wakes up, seeing the roof to the room in the old Cerberus base. With a sigh, she sits up in her bed, her muscles screaming in protest. Groaning, she puts her head in her hands. Moving her hands to her lap she blows away the few stray hairs from her face, only to have them land right back. Groaning, she pushes them out of her face and lifts herself out of the bed.

Popping her aching back she goes to the window and stares out lazily, her eyes shifting to the wall of burgundy lines above her bed. Each made out of blood, countless but nowhere near the 16 years she has spent as Cerberus's genetically modified test monkey. Narrowing her eyes at it, she sticks out her tongue and continues to gaze out the window.

Temis wraps herself in her arms, even though the bleaching lights aren't aglow, the strangling antiseptic smell of the room give her no relief from the feeling of imprisonment. Glancing back at the wall of marks her gaze continues, the light falling in from the window lighting her eyes from the side, causing to seem to glow as they focus on the shadow cast on the marks. She had many a time imagined her shadow as a portal to another realm that she has yet to unlock in her youth, but her broken spirit threw it away long ago.

Closing her eyes, the world swirls around her as time passes in a wink. Her eyes open to a room all so familiar, her body tensing in an intense wash of fear. The chair under her body presses into her skin as the metal clasps on her wrists, ankles, waist, and neck hold her still. Staring ahead a figure emerges from the light of the whooshing door, consumed by shadow. She sits in the desk centered a few feet in front of her.

"Hello Maria, nice day it is today." The figure mutters with a chuckle.

"Fuck off." Temis growls from her position her eyes a lite with hate as she glares at the other.

"Watch your language young lady. We do not accept such behavior, you know this correct?"

A jolt of electricity pulses through Temis's body, stiffening it as she bites her tongue to stifle off a yell of pain; blood in her mouth and her body tingling painfully she grunts, fisting her hands and gritting her red stained teeth as she hardens her glare at the other.

"You will go to Hell for this Veronica."

The other woman leans back in her chair and smirks, "Wrong answer."

The world fades as Temis is hit with an even larger jolt of electricity. Her eyes flutter open in a large white room. Here mind is foggy and her body numb, exhaustion her only feeling, but she is too curious to sleep. Carefully turning her head, she finds a definite pain in her neck that soon spreads to the rest of the body. The pain is hot and searing, intense to the point of pushing tears into her eyes. Letting out a low hiss, her fists clench and she bits her lip.

"Ah, you finally woke up."

Temis whips her head over to the other in the room, ignoring the flood of agony erupting from her spine and every muscle around it, she glares at the woman. The blonde smirks, her grey eyes simmering in mutual revulsion. Gritting her teeth, Temis tests her limbs, unsurprised at the chains binding her to the bed.

Veronica hushes the young girl, pushing Temis back onto her back with little resistance. Kneeling to the girl's side, the scientist grins. Leaning close to the girl's ear she whispers.

"They are purging the Artemis Project," Veronica chuckles, "You are to be dead by nightfall."

The stick of a needle in Temis's neck cuts off any response from the red head as she falls under once again, vaguely aware of the whooshing open of the room's door.

* * *

White's eyes finally open after multiple hours of feverish sleep. Sweat lacing every inch of her skin, the assassin stares up at the ceiling. Her body is numb, her brain at a standstill.

Mustering enough energy to turn her head, she finds the room to be empty. The nightstand is lined with medicines and used needles. On the very edge is her Omni-tool on top of a datapad. Lifting the datapad, letting the tool slide off of it onto the floor she sits up and turns it on. The light of the device lights her face in a haunting way, lining the developing creases on her face as she reads.


End file.
